


Clumsy

by scottmczall



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Lydia-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmczall/pseuds/scottmczall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lydia’s been aware of it. She knew it was coming for her- slowly but surely. She's rarely caught by surprise, and falling in love with the boy with motivational speeches, that would descend into the depths of this world for her, was no exception. So when it finally sinks in, her heart in her throat, it’s nothing she can’t handle."</p><p>Or the one where Lydia get's a little clumsy over Stiles' existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clumsy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I am BACK.
> 
> This prompt is so old and I've been so absent, *ahem* even after saying i wouldn't be (liar) *ahem*, I won't even say I'm sorry. Onto more important things, all this was done with the much appreciated help of my friend Polina, who can be found in [here](http://mcmartinskees.tumblr.com/) and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymouses/works). I, on the other hand, continue to be [here](http://writinski.tumblr.com/) and [here](http://scottmczall.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Okay, so, I hope you all enjoy it, because I really liked writing it.

 

_You got me trippin', stumblin', flippin', fumblin'  
Clumsy 'cuz I'm fallin' in love_

 

*

She can’t help but wonder how it happened to him. Was it a look? Her red hair swirling as she turned to put some kid in their place? Lydia means to ask one day, but knowing him, she’s sensible of the preparations that need to be made before she asks about the day he fell for her. Maybe she’ll threaten Scott, or make Allison do it for her. She knows her friend has advantages she doesn’t. Or maybe just asking nicely will do.

Lydia’s been aware of it. She knew it was coming for her- slowly but surely. She's rarely caught by surprise, and falling in love with the boy with motivational speeches, that would descend into the depths of this world for her, was no exception. So when it finally sinks in, her heart in her throat, it’s nothing she can’t handle. She decides to face it methodically, simply because, even though plans do tend to take unfortunate turns in their town, they’re better than nothing. So she needs to know: can he pin-point a moment?

Because she can.

Stiles drove beside her, talking passionately about merchandising for children, of all things. She doesn’t know how he got to the topic, but that shows to be irrelevant. He gestures strongly and furrows his eyebrows, explaining things she _knows _.__ She doesn’t have the heart to stop him, though, too busy falling in love, or some nonsense of the sorts. It’s bewildering. She looks up and silently thanks the heavens for his lack of lycanthropy. Her heart could certainly be heard by the dogs wandering on the side of the road. Stiles doesn’t notice the hitch in her breath, being his human self as usual, so all is well.

Well, maybe that was a slight exaggeration. And maybe not so slight, but more of a blunt one, given Scott's and Allison's presence in the backseat. She saw the boy shift in the back and felt her breath caught on her throat, refusing to look at him properly. It was unsettling to feel as though he knew--no, to be sure that he had heard the thundering of her heart just then. And how was it that in those long, agonizing seconds, like a slow motion scene in a dumb action movie, she still found a way to take Stiles' babbling to heart, dwelling on how endearing it was? His Adam's apple bobbing up and down, accompanying his enthusiastic tone, or just the way he looked at her almost as often as he did the road, like he needed to divide his attention equally.

Scott snorted loudly at one point, looking pointedly at her with one of those fond grins, and Stiles smiled, satisfied he was pleasing his inattentive crowd. Lydia almost sunk on her seat, taking a deep steady breath. She was about to have a long week.

 

*

Lydia obsesses. Because why not, really? It feels like big enough of deal to be immersed in. She knows how, and when, but what she actually needs to know is: what now?

“Something bothering you?” Allison leans against her locker, full attention on Lydia. She’s been hovering too much for the past few days, since her revealing ride with Stiles. No matter to be stressed, she decides, mostly because she knows Allison is on to her.

“Besides our below average local educational system? No.” She bites, flourishing smile on her lips. Allison tilts her head and smiles. Lydia hates it when she does that. “Stop it. Nothing is wrong, Allison, move along.” She shoos her, but the brunette doesn’t move.

“You’ll have to come to me eventually. I’m your best friend. Nowhere to run.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and turns the other way.

 

*

The Stilinski household is far too comforting of a place to be at. Sometimes it strikes her with no warning, like in this particular afternoon, when they shift around each other in the kitchen. She can barely tell themselves apart at this point. The Sheriff’s arm is over her head, reaching for plates inside the cupboard. Stiles kneels beside them to take the food out of the oven, and Lydia, in a swift movement, throws her hip to the side, stepping away so John can finish what he’s doing.

“This smells really good. I’m such a good cook. Such a catch.” Stiles clacks his tongue, overly proud of himself. Lydia and the Sheriff roll their eyes collectively.

“Shut up and put it on the table.” Lydia scolds before John can. They smile at each other because it’s like they’ve been taking notes on how to keep Stiles in his place, since he tends to float away every now and then.

“The aggressiveness in this house is getting a little too much, wouldn’t we say?” He raises an eyebrow, placing the dish on the table, like he was told. “Towards _me_. Specifically?”

“I feel fine about it.” She shrugs. “Sheriff?”

“ _John_. And take a break with the sarcasm, son.” He waves towards the table, dismissing both teenagers.

“In not calling her out, you’re siding with her, just letting you know.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Yeah, that does sound biased.” Lydia muses.

“Lydia…” The man warns and she raises her hands.

“What? I’m just observing.”

When they're about to sit and enjoy their meal, Stiles looks up at her, giddy, and he does something she can never ignore, pressing his lips together in the slightest, in a small smile that makes his mouth look more inviting than she figured it already was. He does it appreciatively--she knows it because she's seen it before. She didn't always make a big deal about it, though.

Lydia blinks twice out of it, and perhaps she looks for too long, or too deep, but when she's back to herself again, she catches her hand almost knocking her glass down, and refrains a second before it actually does. The girl lets out a huff, looking at Stiles again, at least a little offended that he'd shaken her off her game like that, but he doesn't seem to notice her annoyance, sitting down along with his father. Lydia lets out a quiet breath, frowning at her glass--and maybe her entire life right now, before she can proceed to eating.

They sass each other some more during their lunch and Lydia spends the entire afternoon thinking twice before moving in any direction.

 

*

She didn't think Scott would be one to approach her on the matter, even if he did made her life a little harder that day in the Jeep. But, as it turns out, he does.

Scott looks at her now like he knows a secret now, which he _does_ , and that would be absolutely fine and easily ignored if it weren't for the fact that Scott's absolutely the worst at keeping secrets. Lydia is seriously impressed not everyone in their town knows that he can magically sprout fur on his face and grow claws.

Now every time she, Stiles and him are in the same space, the boy's look shifts from one another as he smiles happily, showing his dimples and the whole ordeal. She rolls her eyes at times, and blushes at others, but it isn't until he comes up to her that she actually hears in how much trouble she is.

"So… about Stiles." He starts, standing almost exactly where Allison stood the week before. It must be karma or some sort of cosmic joke that Lydia is most certainly not laughing it.

"What about him?" She opens her locker, blocking his face, and hears him sigh.

"I _know_." Scott says wholeheartedly. "I mean… you know I know, right? That I can, uh… know?"

"I'm aware." She replies calmly. Scott chuckles. "What?" The girl slams the door shut, eyeing him intensely.

"Nothing!" His hands fly to the back of his head and he scratches it, smiling apologetically. "You just sounded like him now."

"I did not!" Her eyes widen and she watches Scott stray himself.

"Heeeey, nerves running high here?" Stiles comes from behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"You know Scott's nerves don't run high around me." She smirks, almost completely forgetting what she was talking about just now. His hands feel warm on her and she wants to shuffle closer and wrap her arms around him, or just generally touch him without looking as obvious as she knows it would.

She blames the sappiness on the oxytocin.

"Yes, I'm aware." Stiles says lively and Scott practically barks a laugh.

She wants to die.

“So, uhm, don’t we have a class right about now? We should go.” Lydia moves away from the boy’s touch, feeling Scott’s eyes on her, and turns the other way, resisting the urge to take Stiles by the hand. In her defense, it’s their chemistry class and they take it together.

“Yeah, you guys have chem right?” Scott reaches her easily, standing by her side as she walks slowly, waiting for Stiles to accompany her.

“Yes, we do.” She replies quickly, chin up. “But you don’t.” Her smile is sharp as is the look she quips her friend with. Scott will pay for this eventually, she’ll make sure of it.

“Well, english is that way, I can go with you guys.”

“Okay, you’re acting _really_ suspiciously right now. Am I missing something?” Stiles intervenes, then opens his mouth in surprise. “Is it about my birthday? You guys, it’s almost six months away!” He launches an arm over Lydia’s shoulders, sighing happily at the thought, and she can’t help but stare at the ‘O’ forming on his lips. His are beautifully shaped, shaded in a light pink, that turn red easily when he bites or sucks on them for a while. It’s mostly just distracting and inviting, if she’s being honest. Which is why, before she even knows what's happening, she loses her balance for a second.

It’s not so much of a slip as it is the beginning of one before she picks up on their pace and gets it together, but it’s enough of a miss that they stop abruptly and look at her in surprise.

“Lydia, did you just-”

“Don’t even say it, Stiles!” She huffs, feeling her heart in her throat. The last time that happened she was fourteen, learning her skills with horrid scarpins, trying to be silent in her mother’s room. Then never again.

“Are you- uh, are you okay?” He swallows, voice hoarse, like it seems to get every time he’s intimidated by her. _Good._ He better be.

“Yes, I am fine!” The girl answers, annoyed. Scott’s gaze has never burned the way it does right now. “This is your fault! I can’t even walk straight when you say so much shit like that all the time!” Her voice raises and Scott opens his eyes wide, like he can’t believe she turned the situation around to Stiles. “No, you know what? It’s my fault for listening to your nonsense! I’m going to class on my own. And you better not stay and chit chat or you're gonna be late!” She points to Stiles, who looks rather guilty, and stalks away, feeling like she could probably defuse a bomb with her persuasion skills.

Lydia ignores the tug on her stomach that begs for her to apologize.

 

*

Even though this is Scott, Stiles and their strangely heightened friendship bond--which only makes things about a thousand times worse--Lydia tries to remind herself that it’s Scott she’s talking about and he wouldn’t reveal anything to Stiles after she made it quite clear that the idea doesn't seem appealing to her.

So the week rolls over rather smoothly, which defies some of her wild thoughts about how difficult things would probably be. Her only problem seems to be herself and her newfound incapacity of paying attention to anything else when Stiles sits next to her eating all kinds of fruits. The last one was a pear and its juices dripped down his chin. He tried to reach some of it with his tongue and might have given her a mild heart attack while at it.

She wishes she could say that was the last straw, but it wasn’t. She hoped there wouldn't be one, because figuring out what to do with all these feelings wasn’t working the way she had expected. She has no ideas; and if _that_ isn’t unsettling, what is?

“Do we need to go over anything?” Derek asks the first question at Pack Meeting, and it turns out to be the same one that always makes her eyes roll right along with Stiles'--who’s sitting unnecessarily close to her, thighs touching and everything.

“No, we just think it’s cozy to gather every once in a while. You know, keep the fire burning and all that.” Stiles smiles in fake good-will, receiving a similar reaction from Derek. And what happens next doesn’t, by any means, represent her feelings towards the joke correctly, but, nonetheless... Lydia chuckles. It sounds more like a happy giggle and it makes her face go red. She can feel the rush of blood heating her up as it creeps up her neck.

All eyes are on her in a fraction of second. At this point she might as well carry a flag with Stiles’ name and a heart by it.

“Did you just laugh?” Stiles asks slowly. “At _that?_ ”

“Yes.” She breathes in deeply. “People laugh. What are you all looking at?” The girl folds her arms over her chest, hoping she looks as demanding as she plans to.

“You were never very openly appreciative of my humor, ‘s all.” The boy shrugs, a little awed.

“That’s not totally true, Stiles. Lydia laughs at your jokes.” Allison measures. “Sometimes. Obviously rarely, but--but it happens.” She nods. “Right, Scott? She, uhm, she does that, right?”

Lydia, who was narrowing her eyes at them before, after Allison’s babbling, comes to the realization that they’re actually trying to _help_ her.

“Yeah, yeah, totally. She’s laughed before.” He agrees, sounding jumpy. Lydia sinks on her seat. They suck at helping. “I mean, at you!” The boy fixes and Allison throws him an alarmed look. “ _With_ you. She’s laughed with you before. With all of us, actually.”

“Well, now that we’ve established I can, in fact, laugh, can we go on? Please?” She says it quickly, before Scott can speak again.

“She’s really angry.” Isaac ‘whispers’ to Cora.

“Nice try, bud, but I think everyone heard you.” Stiles whispers back and winks at him. Isaac shifts on his seat, biting his tongue not to answer Stiles properly. Scott has them playing nice with each other. “You okay?” He turns to her, darting his brown eyes all over her face.

“Yeah.” She nods. “Just a little surprised people don’t know I laugh.”

“Hey, no.” Stiles reaches for her hand. “That’s not true. Scott was just being weird. Which he has been for a few days now. Especially with you.” He says it like he just wants to let her know that he knows. “I’m not gonna question you about it because I’m guessing that if I should know I would, but whatever.”

“It’s nothing.” _It’s everything._ The lie tastes a little more bitter than any other she’s told before.

“Yeah.”

Lydia ignores Derek’s eyes on her throughout their meeting. She also ignores the way Isaac does his best _not_ to lay eyes on her at all, and how Cora seems to be having the time of her damn life every time they happen to look at each other. And they all know now, because she’s obvious and her body continuously betrays her under supernatural senses.

When Stiles takes her home that day, and watches her go inside, she looks at her own feet profusely, refusing to stumble once again.

 

*

She does look for ways of getting rid of her sudden malfunctions, but her failure shows in the worst possible way when she attends the next pack meeting. Derek suspiciously asks her to arrive earlier than the others. She supposes there are some personal issues going on, since Scott wasn't the one to make the request, but she doesn't question it, even if they're not the closest of people. They're pack, and she'll be there if any of them need her.

Lydia crosses Derek's loft's door only to find him, Isaac and Cora standing up in formation as they stare at her. She frowns and takes a few seconds before she speaks.

"You do realize you're collectively stepping up the creepy ladder, right?" She smiles dryly, crossing her arms.

"Lydia..." Derek takes a step further. "You stink." He finishes, making her gasp. Cora snorts behind him, nudging Isaac.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"He said you stink. And we can't have it anymore. You have to tell him." The other girl answers instead, shrugging.

"Tell who what? And, excuse you, but I smell nothing but amazing. _Ever._ " She steps further as well, looking into Derek's eyes. He looks more amused than irritated by whatever stink he's gotten from her. No, by whatever _mixed scent._ She refuses to acknowledge that nonsense.

"Well, you smelled pretty great before--you know… the Stiles thing." Isaac says it like it's profane, lowering his voice and averting eyes.

"I have that handled." To that she clears her throat and swallows, adjusting her posture. There’s a hitch in her breath and she knows they all caught it because they tilt their heads almost in synchrony when it happens.

"Yes, we're making an intervention because you have it handled." Cora rolls her eyes. "You reek of sexual frustration and frustration alone. It's worse than Isaac, and that's saying something." She quirks an eyebrow up.

"Hah! Funny." Isaac retorts, face turning bitter.

"The point is that we can only concentrate properly again when you do it." Derek looks back, nodding in silence as his supporters do.

"I'm not declaring myself to Stiles if that's what you're suggesting."

"We really don't care what you do as long as you stop reeking, red." Cora says it, finishing the conversation and turning back to the other side of the room. Isaac looks at Lydia half apologetically before following. The girl bites the inside of her cheek before pursing her lips and looking at Derek, who doesn’t seem like he’s about to go anywhere.

“Anything else?”

“He loves you too,” He shrugs, crossing his arms as well. “And you’re being stupid.”

“I’m--" She’s about to protest his declaration, but the door’s sliding open before she can. Lydia looks back to Stiles grinning beside Scott and Kira, hands shoved inside his pockets when he looks happily at her. She asks herself how exactly does he manage to look at her like that all the time, even when she royally fucks up. Even when she’s trying so hard to deny him. That’s when he floods her and she suffocates in his presence. _Well, I guess I_ do _stink._

Stiles spends the entire meeting playing with Lydia’s pinky finger while he talks to the others, and she melts under his absentminded touch. Derek sends her dirty looks every now and then, but she brushes them off, looking away. 

 

*

She should’ve vowed to herself not to step foot in his room after she acknowledged her own feelings. But she didn’t, and there she was. Not that vowing would’ve made a difference, since Stiles won’t get away from his board for a second when they’re trying to figure out the Big Bads. He almost yanked her out of the car by the hand, and most definitely pushed her by the shoulders to get up the stairs a little faster.

“What the hell are we even up against here?” Stiles looks at the board, hands on his waist.

“Sounds like--and I don’t believe I’m about to say this--evil forest fairy.” Lydia breathes it out warily. Stiles looks back at her, narrowing his eyes.

“Like a Samodiva?”

“Yes.” She sighs. “I mean, their mythology says they have affinity with fire and, well, I think we have half a werewolf pack to show that it--whatever _it_ is--isn’t against a few burns.”

“Great.” Stiles closes his eyes, sighing. “A fairy. A very, very _angry_ fairy. Why not a cool calm fairy? Pretty fairy. Fairy that’s not trying to kill us, fairy!” The boy complains, looking back at the board as he bites on the flesh around his thumbnail.

“Stop that.” She pulls his hand back. “It’ll start hurting and you’ll start complaining.” The girl rolls her eyes.

He hums, not paying much attention, but doesn't take his hand back either. “I just… Someone must’ve pissed her-- _it_ off, right? Like, it wouldn’t just start attacking us out of the nowhere. Someone did this.”

“But what _for_?” Lydia frowns. “And what did they do? Because it didn’t seem like she had a target in mind, if you ask me. It attacked all of us.”

“Yes, which very rude, by the way. If I’m gonna have supernatural fire in my ass I better have asked for it.” He quips.

“ _Stiles!_ ” Lydia huffs, holding back a smile. The girl reaches forward, looking at the mess on the board and takes a red string of her own to link the representative picture of their new trouble to the one question mark, representing whomever woke the creature. Only Stiles says something and she holds her breath before finishing what she’s doing.

“What? I like my ass bare of fire.”

She yanks her hand back from the board, pulling the string along with her, just to look at him in disbelief, but ends up watching as multiple thumbtacks hit the floor. They're too many for her to count. Her face heats in shame because she's done it again--being inattentive on the account of a boy.

“Fuck.” She curses under her breath, going down on her knees. “Fuck, Stiles, I’m sorry!” The girl grabs some of them, seeing as the others roll down under his bed, and groans.

“Lydia, hey,” He crouches beside her, placing a hand on her elbow when she reaches for another pin. “Hey, look at me,” Stiles pulls her a little, and she does as he says, searching for his eyes. “It’s okay, c’mon. I’m supposed to be the clumsy one, remember? I do this all the time.” He shrugs, smiling kindly. She knows he’s lying the moment he says it. Lydia knows he probably prays to the board before he goes to sleep, and it always looks exactly the same as they leave it when she goes back up there.

“Liar.” She smiles as well, tired of fighting him. He winces, still giddy.

“But a good one?” The boy tries. “A good _looking_ one?” He wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to make her laugh. Lydia huffs happily.

“Yes.” She answers, no bite in her voice.

It feels like she hasn’t talked to him in years, always swallowing the feeling in her gut that tells her she should say something to him, like every time they speak to each other is her perfect opportunity. And maybe they all are. She can’t imagine telling Stiles she loves him and having him be anything less than happy about it.

Stiles widens his eyes when she says nothing else and she can see the tensing up his shoulders as they grow stiffer. Her gaze drops down to his lips and licks them in reaction.

“Oh.” He sounds throaty and out of air, and she appreciates it. Lydia could watch him fluster all day long, cheeks growing red, mouth agape and eyes darting like he doesn’t know which point of her face he’s supposed to look at. Like he’s looking for something. “Yeah?” He flashes her an uncertain smile.

“Yeah.” Lydia replies promptly, hoping he takes the hint. She doesn’t know if she can do much more than that, entirely sure they’re both equally distracted by each other.

“Lyds… Lyds if this is a joke, it’s a really mean, unfunny one.” His voice comes out harsh and low, like it's about to shatter if she says the wrong thing. It's almost like he's wounded, scared she might tease his bruises. She thinks he should know better than to consider she doesn't know their limits and which territories they're allowed to explore, but she understands her place as his blind spot. Mostly because he's hers.

“Not a joke, Stiles.”

He takes a beat before saying something back.

“So, if I were to--uh, do something… you wouldn’t punch me later?”

“No.” Lydia smiles lightly, leaning in. “Unless you take too long.” She says, and he startles a little. “I get impatient.” The girl shrugs.

She swears Stiles shines. He lights up as his shoulders drop in an easy relief and he reaches for her slowly, letting his knees touch the ground. The boy touches her face, his hand on her nape and something about the glint in his eyes makes her remember.

"Wait. Can you just tell me something first?" Lydia feels the pulsing of her heart insistent on her ears and she can't even believe that she's about to ask him.

"Anything." He replies almost enthusiastically.

"When did you fall in love with me?" The girl asks it bluntly, voice raw and she has a hard time recognizing the time the words slip out. But it's good either way because she really wants to know. Not to make a point or comparisons, but there's something inside her that begs to know how does a third grader fall in love and _stay that way_.

Stiles pulls back enough that they can see each other and smiles more to himself than to her.

"Uhm, I was sitting on the swingset with Scott and you were somewhere on the other side of the playground, and you seemed to be doing something on your own until you got bored or something. So you stood up, walked up to some kid and told him that you wanted to play with them. Except this kid, poor, stupid little kid, tells you you can't play the game because you're a girl." Stiles chuckles. "And then you pushed him, kicked him in the leg, stole the ball from him and told him you could do anything you wanted."

Lydia barely lets him finish before she kisses him. It's a desperate kiss, like they're drowning in each other, and they hum in appreciation when their tongues finally touch. She could cry about the way they fit or how he doesn't hold anything back when he kisses her as well, eager like she's water and he's dying of thirst. Stiles does things to her when his hand dives in her hair and pulls it gently. Then again when he sucks gently on her bottom lip as he brings her closer by the waist. Had they not been in such an awkward position, sitting sloppily on the floor, she would've scolded him for breaking the kiss completely.

"I can't take this back. You know that, right? That I can't--I can't do it. Please don't ask me to forget about it." He draws the words out in between shallow breaths and takes a long one.

"I wouldn't ask you that."

"Okay, good."

Lydia gets up, feeling her legs starting to protest her previous position and Stiles follows her a little while after, never taking his eyes off of the girl. She sees every bit of his fascination as she does, because he watches her like she’s the sun in all its majesty, like she burns bright in her ascent and he’d follow her to every corner of this world.

When he loses balance right below her, she smiles to herself and pulls him up with her. She’ll gladly give him his spot back as the clumsy one.

 

*

Lydia enjoys life--the big things and the little ones. Diamonds and a nice summer day. Money and the way Cora's nose twists when she sees Stiles and her enter Derek's loft with linked hands.

"How can you smell _worse_?"

"Deaton says it's their tether. We're just gonna have to learn how to deal with it." Scott answers, coming from behind them with Allison by his side. The brunette smiles openly- probably something to do with her lack of heightened senses and happiness for her friend's newfound relationship.

"Hey, don't tell my darling she stinks!" Stiles mocks, bringing Lydia closer as he points an accusatory finger at Cora.

"This is hell."

"You guys, this is so exciting!" Kira emerges from the other side of the loft and turns to Derek, pulling on his jacket. "Isn't it?"

"Congratulations on being the slowest couple in the room." He provides sternly, with a smartass smirk rising on his lips.

"You are so funny, Derek. You should do stand-ups instead of push-ups, much more your range of skills." Stiles' hand rest on Lydia's waist, his thumb drawing circles on her skin through her dress.

They spend the entire afternoon like that, holding on against each other. She’ll deny it if anyone ever mentions Scott’s polite request for Lydia to climb off Stiles’ lap, since people are staring and he needs them to be attentive to his words. She’ll also deny it if Stiles ever talks about the way he caressed her inner thigh for almost five minutes without cracking his serious expression and made her fluster in front of a bunch of werewolves. There are just somethings that shouldn’t leave their original premises.

When they leave they’re all on good terms. Kira and Scott have made Derek apologize at least three times to at least two of them. He does it with a sour face, but Lydia knows he loves the attention.

Kira and Allison cross the door beside Stiles and Lydia when Scott jogs to reach them and makes a joke about Lydia and Stiles’ long time coming. Lydia can almost hear her brain working engines as she remembers his laughter when he mocked her about Stiles.

The way Lydia’s foot moves a few inches to the side, in front of the alpha is so casual the other girls don’t even notice.

“What the h--” Is all he says during his descent to ground.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Kira widens her eyes and runs to his side, frowning in worry. Allison goes after her, already breaking down in laughter and watches as Kira helps the boy up.

“Payback’s a bitch.” Lydia whispers, knowing he’ll hear her. Stiles looks behind, a little startled, then back at her. She pretends she doesn’t see it.

“What was that?” He nudges her, a smirk splattered on his face.

“What?” She shrugs, unaffected. “He’s just clumsy.” When she slips her fingers into his she feels more confidence in her stride than ever before.


End file.
